


The Season of Chance

by orderlychaos



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Awkwardness, Cop!Phil, First Kiss, First Meeting, Fluff, M/M, Non-SHIELD AU, cameo by Maria Hill, cameo by Nick Fury - Freeform, holiday fic, interruptions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-16
Updated: 2015-01-16
Packaged: 2018-03-07 19:39:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3180713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orderlychaos/pseuds/orderlychaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Phil Coulson would love to say the man climbing in through his living room window was a surprise, but it really wasn’t.  After the week Phil had just had, it wasn’t even strange.</em>
</p>
<p>Climbing in through the window of Natasha's neighbour hadn't been the best decision Clint Barton had ever made.  Not that Clint had expected the guy to be a cop.  Or so damn hot.  The holiday season also isn't the best time to start a new romance, but Clint is going to try, damn it.  Despite their first meeting, it can't be that hard to ask the hot cop out on a date.  Right?</p>
<p>Sadly, life for Clint Barton isn't always that easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Season of Chance

**Author's Note:**

> So this was supposed to be a holiday fic posted around New Year's Eve, but I didn't quite manage to post it by then. Hopefully it's still enjoyable anyway ;)

Phil Coulson would love to say the man climbing in through his living room window was a surprise, but it really wasn’t.  After the week Phil had just had, it wasn’t even strange.

Whoever the man was, he looked ready for illicit activities as much as the icy weather.  His battered leather jacket had been zipped over a grey hoodie, and black gloves covered his hands.  Spikes of dark blond hair poked out from under his purple knit beanie, and his dark jeans did little to hide the strength of his legs.  Or his very nice ass.  Freezing halfway inside from the fire escape, the man’s eyes flickered from side to side.  He seemed to have only just noticed the lights were on and Phil’s apartment was actually occupied.

“If you’re looking to steal things, I should warn you, I’m a cop,” Phil said levelly.

The man raised his wide blue eyes to Phil’s.  The part of Phil’s brain that would always be a cop started cataloguing details.  Late twenties, about five nine, no distinguishing characteristics.  The man didn’t appear to be armed either, which was probably a good thing.  Phil was still up to his elbows in flour, halfway through his second batch of snickerdoodles for the precinct.  It was hardly the most threatening Phil had ever appeared, but it was two nights before Christmas Eve.  He could let a would-be burglar go, just this once.  Not that Phil was so convinced that this guy was a burglar.  Looking closer, Phil could see how the man’s eyes were sharp and clear, and was too well-muscled to be half starved.  His face was rough-edged, and probably very attractive when the man wasn’t staring in shock.

On the stereo, Ella Fitzgerald gave way to Miles Davis.  Neither song was particularly seasonal, but they were two of Phil’s favourites.  The sound of jazz was as much a tradition of Phil’s as the baking.  It was soothing as he baked his usual mix of gingerbread, snickerdoodles and shortbread.  Half of the cookies always went to Sam Wilson at the VA, while the rest went to the precinct for those working over Christmas.  It wasn’t much, but Sam was always grateful, as were Phil’s fellow detectives.  It also paid to keep the ninth precinct’s most fearsome desk sergeant  on side.  Particularly since Melinda May could be swayed by cranberry and pistachio shortbread.

As the silence between Phil and his surprise guest grew, Phil sighed.  “Look, could you either decide to come all the way in, or leave?  You’re letting out all the heat.”

The man blinked and came back to life.  Briefly, he glanced longingly behind him at the dark, snowy night.  Then he squared his shoulders and climbed the rest of the way into Phil’s apartment, shutting the window behind him.  “So,” the man said in a rough voice that sent a small shiver of awareness down Phil’s spine.  “This isn’t exactly what it looks like?”

Phil arched an eyebrow, because truthfully, he’d expected the guy to take the opportunity Phil had given him to flee.  “So you’re not spending the evening climbing into stranger’s apartments through the window?” Phil said mildly.

“Yes,” the man said, a relieved smile curving his lips.  Then he frowned.  “No.  Wait.”

Felix, Phil’s temperamental black cat, chose that moment to jump off the couch.  Sauntering forward, Felix wound his way around Phil’s would-be burglar’s legs, purring loudly.  Phil blinked.  Felix didn’t like anyone but Phil.  Not even Nick, and he and Phil had been friends since they’d served together in the Rangers.  Admittedly, that might have been because Nick loved poking Felix while he was napping.

“Hey, cat,” the guy greeted, dropping down into a crouch and scratching Felix under the chin.

“His name is Felix,” Phil said, before immediately asking himself why he was introducing his cat to a stranger.  Some deep instinct was telling Phil he could trust this guy, although Phil had no idea why.

The man looked up sheepishly, his cheeks faintly flushed.  “Uh, my name’s Clint,”he said.  “Clint Barton.  And I swear I’m not actually a criminal.”

Phil fought back a smile.  Would-be burglar or not, there was something endearing about Clint Barton.  His smile transformed his face, lighting his eyes.  The expression somehow made Clint seem younger than he was, and absolutely did not send Phil’s pulse racing.  Crossing to the sink, Phil washed his hands, watching Clint pet Felix in the reflection in his kitchen window.  “I have to admit,” he said, turning back as he dried his hands.  “I’m struggling to come up with an explanation for your visit that isn’t at least a little bit illegal.”

Clint smirked, his eyes dancing mischievously.  “I never said it wasn’t a little illegal,” he replied.  Then Clint seemed to curl in on himself for a moment, before he rose gracefully to his feet.  “Look, you seem like a decent guy, and you haven’t tried to arrest me yet.  Can we just forget about this as a moment of weakness and really bad judgement on my part?”

Phil watched Clint for a moment, noting the hopeful expression in his blue eyes and the sudden tension in his shoulders.  Or really, the sudden lack of smirks and distraction _hiding_ the tension in his shoulders.

Clint blew out a sigh.  “I swear I wasn’t going to rob you,” he said.  Reaching up, he tried to run a hand through his hair, clearly forgetting he was wearing a hat.  All he really managed to do was knock the knit beanie skew and reveal more hair sticking up at odd angles.  “I was checking up on a friend -- not that she needs checking up on.  Actually, she’s probably going to kill me when she finds out.”

Several things clicked into place in Phil’s mind.  Recently, a new tenant had moved into the apartment next door to Phil’s.  Natasha was gorgeous, intelligent and hilariously sarcastic.  Somehow, she’d also decided Phil was her new friend.  Phil didn’t question it -- much -- because Natasha was fun to hang out with.  Even if she did come with strange men climbing in through Phil’s window.  “Natasha and I are just friends,” he assured Clint.  All the same, Phil made a mental note to check in with Natasha in the morning.  Just to be sure Clint was who he said he was.

Clint’s eyes went wide.  “Oh.  Oh no.  I’m not her boyfriend.  Shit.  Not that this makes it any less creepy, but… no.”  Clint huffed out a breath.  “This seems really bad, doesn’t it?”

“I’ve seen worse,” Phil told him.

Clint shot him a sideways glance.  “That’s not really comforting.”  Finally tugging off his gloves and beanie, Clint ran a hand through his hair again, sending it into even more disarray.  “Okay, ‘cause Nat’s going to find out about this anyway and yell at me…”  He glanced up at Phil, his eyes determined and holding echoes of pain.  “Me and Nat, we’ve been through a lot.  For a long time, she was all I had.  So sometimes I go and do irrationally stupid things.  Like almost-stalking her new neighbour because she likes them.”  He sighed forlornly.  “She’s going to kick my ass _so bad_ \-- and I totally deserve it.”

Clint looked ridiculously sheepish standing in the middle of Phil’s living room staring at his boots.  Phil felt all his protective instincts flare.  Nick called it his ‘adopt a stray’ reflex, which was how Phil had ended up with his cat.  And his beautiful, intelligent daughter, but nothing would ever make Phil regret adopting Skye.  “I doubt this is the worst thing a big brother has ever done,” Phil assured Clint.

Clint snorted, his lips thinning.  “Yeah, I guess,” he muttered.  There was a lot more to the story Phil could tell, but Phil wasn’t about to force Clint to tell someone he’d only just met.  “Why don’t you sit down?” he suggested.  “I think my batch of snickerdoodles is almost done, and I can make us both a cup of coffee?”

Clint’s eyes widened again.  “No, dude… I broke into your place!  You don’t have to feed me!”

With a start, Phil realized he hadn’t even told Clint his name.  Flushing, he bit his lips and shrugged slightly.  “You don’t have to stay, of course,” he said, “but I figured you might need a friend.  And then I remembered I hadn’t even told you my name.  So…”  Phil held out his hand.  “Phil Coulson.  It’s nice to meet you, Clint.”

Clint shook his hand and blinked, before his eyes sharpened.  “You really mean that, don’t you?” he said, a trace of awe in his voice.

“I do,” Phil agreed, momentarily distracted by the unusual callouses on Clint’s hand.

“Thanks,” Clint replied, ducking his head a little.  “Coffee would be… would be great, actually.”

Phil smiled.  “Sure,” he said.  Then, noticing he was still holding Clint’s hand, he let go and retreated to the kitchen.

~*~

Clint wasn’t sure how he’d ended up here, but it definitely wasn’t how he’d expected his night to go.  Not that Clint had big plans.  He’d just wanted to check Natasha’s friendly new neighbour wasn’t an asshole from Hydra Security.  Hydra had tried to recruit Natasha a few months back, and they weren’t keen on taking _no_ for an answer.  And okay, in hindsight, breaking into the guy’s apartment had been a stupid move.  Also kind of creepy.  Clint hadn’t expected Phil to be a cop.  Or home.

Or insanely fucking hot.

Seriously, the thick, black-framed glasses Phil was wearing should be illegal.  Clint kept getting distracted by the way they framed Phil’s kind blue eyes.  Of course, if Clint was admitting things, then it wasn’t just Phil’s _eyes_ .  Phil also had broad shoulders and strong forearms revealed by the rolled up sleeves of his dress shirt.  To make matters worse, Phil was genuinely _nice_ and interesting to talk to.  Like Clint, Phil never missed an episode of Dog Cops.  He also loved sneaking off to the Museum of Natural History and thought arrows were cool.  Plus, Phil made seriously addicting snickerdoodles.  Clint wasn’t sure whether to thank or curse Natasha for never introducing them.

“Talking of strange,” Phil said, once Clint had finished telling a slightly abbreviated story from the circus.  “That reminds me of the time I almost caught Wade breaking into my apartment.”

“ _Almost_ caught?” Clint prompted, because he had a hard time believing Phil didn’t achieve anything he set his mind to.

Phil smiled ruefully, the corners of his eyes crinkling.  “That’s the thing about Wade.  Most of the time he only breaks into places or pick-pockets for mischief’s sake, but he’s also very good at getting away.”

“Oh, come on.  You can’t say that and not explain,” Clint protested.  Somehow, he’d ended up sprawled on Phil’s couch with his boots kicked off.  He’d turned so he could face Phil, his legs curled up and his arm stretched out along the back of the couch.  Phil was propped up against the opposite arm, empty mug discarded on the coffee table so he could gesture with his hands.

“Okay, well, I was coming back from a long case -- a long _week_ , really -- to find Wade on his knees in front of my door, cursing.  Which probably had something to do with Natasha standing over him with a large knife I’m told I imagined in my exhaustion.”

Clint snorted, because that sounded exactly like Natasha.  Phil’s eyes danced behind his glasses.  “Wade turns these wide eyes on me, like he’s begging for help, and completely forgetting that I’d tried to arrest him the day before,” Phil continued.  “I found out later that Wade was actually there to return what he’d stolen and apologize.”

“But naturally he ran instead of saying that?” Clint asked, fighting a grin.

“Of course,” Phil replied wryly.  “He headed for the fire escape, because I was blocking the stairs.  I ended up having to drop my pizza to chase him.  What happened next was rather painful to both me and my pride.”

Clint raised both his eyebrows.

Phil sighed.  “About halfway down to the street Wade starts throwing Jessica Cage’s washing at me.  Her husband Luke is a big guy, and one of his shirts hits me right in the face.  I missed my step and ended up crashing down of flight of stairs, right into Danny Rand’s prize herb pot.”  Biting his lip not to laugh, Clint hid his face behind his coffee mug.  Phil arched an eyebrow, clearly not fooled for a second.  “By the time I climbed back to my feet, I’d expected Wade to have disappeared.  But I hadn’t counted on Felix.”

“Felix?” Clint echoed.  As if sensing they were talking about him, the cat raised his head from where he’d been dozing on the couch between them.

“Felix,” Phil replied, giving the cat a scratch.  “I found Wade and Felix staring each other down like an Old West gunfight.  Only, Wade jerks in surprise and somehow trips over Felix.  He grabs for the nearest thing, which happens to be my arm, and the next thing I know, both Wade and I are in the dumpster.  Natasha assures me it was all very hilarious.”

Clint tried his best to hold in his laughter, but the image of Phil sitting up in a dumpster wearing a tailored suit was just too much.  Phil made a disgruntled face as Clint chuckled, but the corners of his eyes were crinkled in amusement.

“Do you know what the worst part was?” Phil added, smiling when Clint shook his head in reply.  “I had to drag Wade down to the precinct, so I never actually got my pizza.”

“Aww, no,” Clint said.

Phil grinned, the expression lighting up his whole face and sort of knocking the breath from Clint’s lungs.  To distract himself, Clint grabbed the last snickerdoodle from the plate on the coffee table.  He hummed in happiness as he crunched the cookie.  “Seriously, these cookies are _awesome_ ,” he said _._

Phil chuckled softly.  “Thanks,” he said, his cheeks lightly dusted with pink.  Clint didn’t remember cops being this adorable when he’d been living on the streets.  “Most of my precinct would agree with you.  It’s usually why I bother with baking it all.  I figure everyone could do with something nice this time of year.”

Clint was charmed by both Phil’s kindness and the faint smile that curved his lips.  “Yeah?”

“Trip -- Antoine Triplett -- is working double shifts over the holidays so some of the other uniforms with families can spend more time at home.  I figured that deserved some chocolate-chip shortbread.  Plus, it will give me another chance to encourage him to take his detectives exam,” Phil explained.  “Our desk sergeant Melinda always works the holidays too.  And there’s a few detectives I know who have cases they’ll be working.”

Clint swallowed thickly.  “You’re a nice guy, Phil Coulson,” he said.

Phil ducked his head shyly, but before he could say anything else, there was the sound of a key in the apartment’s front door.  “Hey Dad,” a voice called out.  “How are the cookies?  If you’re done, Uncle Nick called dibs on the gingerbread.”

A young woman rounded the corner dressed in jeans and an oversized sweater.  Her dark hair tumbled over her shoulder in a messy plait, and as soon as she saw Clint on the couch, her dark eyes went wide.  Behind her, a tall and intimidating African-American man walked in.  A black eye patch covered his left eye, which didn’t help him look less terrifying, even though he was wearing well-worn jeans and a black sweater with reindeers on it.  Clint swallowed down the urge to flee back out the window.

“Skye,” Phil greeted with a happy smile.  He climbed to his feet and reached out a hand to rest it on the young woman’s shoulder.  “Clint, this is Skye, my daughter,” Phil introduced.  “And my old friend Nick.”

Clint fixed a smile on his face and stood.  He nodded towards Skye, and subtly tried to wipe his hands on his jeans before offering it to Nick.  “Hi,” he said.  “Are you a detective like Phil?”

“No,” Nick replied, his grip firm as he eyed Clint carefully.  Clint repressed a shudder at the calculating look.  “I’m SWAT.”

Phil huffed.  “Nick is actually one of SWAT’s senior team leaders,” he said.  The pointed stare he gave Nick either meant this was an old argument, or Clint was missing something.  “Nick, Skye, this is Clint.  He’s a friend of my neighbour Natasha.” Phil sent Clint a smile that did nothing to distract Clint from his sudden stab of panic.  How the hell was he going to explain what he was doing here?  “He accidentally knocked on the wrong door, and since Natasha’s out, I invited him in for coffee.”

Clint flashed Phil a look of relief and gratitude.

“Natasha’s friend, huh?” Skye said, her eyes narrowing.

“Yeah,” Clint agreed, resisting the urge to swallow and wipe his hands on his jeans again.  “We’ve known each other forever, and we also work at Stark Industries together.”

“And what do you do there?” Skye asked, her tone not exactly friendly.  Clint felt his smile wilt around the edges.

“Skye,” Phil interrupted, frowning.

“No, it’s okay,” Clint said before Skye could argue.  “I work in the R&D department mostly, but sometimes Nat and I help run security.”

“Impressive,” Nick rumbled.  “Stark doesn’t let just anyone do that.”  He glanced at Phil.  Although his face never changed, Clint still got the impression Nick was amused.  “The pizza is sitting in the kitchen getting cold.”

Nick seemed content to leave it at that, but Skye was still watching Clint with her narrow-eyed glare.  “Is this a date?” she demanded.  “Dad, did you kick us out of the apartment so you could go on a _date_?”

Clint coughed sharply, air suddenly freezing in his lungs.  What the _hell_?

Everyone turned to look at him, and Clint felt himself flush bright red.  “I’ve never met Phil before today,” he said.

“Skye, it was _your_ idea to go to the movies with Nick,” Phil pointed out in a mild voice.  Interestingly, the tips of his ears were bright pink.

“I was just leaving, anyway,” Clint added before things could get any more awkward.

“Oh.”  Phil turned to him.  “You can stay for pizza if you want?”

Spending more time with Phil sounded _really_ good, but Clint preferred to do it without Skye’s suspicious glares.  Or Nick’s hidden smirks.  A traitorous part of Clint’s brain pointed out that he should ask Phil out on a real date.  If Skye thought they were already on one, that meant Phil had dated at least one dude, right?

“Thanks, but uh, I should go,” Clint muttered.  “I’d better not leave Lucky alone for much longer.”  Phil already knew all about Clint’s adopted dog, but even so, Clint hoped the excuse didn’t seem as weak to Phil as it did to him.

“Of course,” Phil said with a warm smile.  “Let me walk you to the door.”  Since Phil seemed to be ignoring Skye’s blatant staring, Clint decided to do the same.  Clint lingered in the doorway, glancing down the corridor towards Natasha’s apartment before turning back to Phil.  “It was very nice to meet you, Clint,” Phil said softly.

Clint smiled, ducking his head.  He could tell Phil genuinely meant that despite Clint’s weird appearance through his window.  “It was nice to meet you too, Phil,” he replied.  Taking a deep breath, Clint opened his mouth to ask Phil out for coffee, but Nick’s voice shattered the moment before he could.

“Phil, we’re going to eat all the pizza!”

Grimacing slightly, Clint shoved his hands into his pockets and tried not to look like he was hunching his shoulders.  “I should let you get back to that.  And the baking,” he said.  He pasted a bright smile on his face.  “I’ll see you around, Phil.”

Clint had to be imagining the flash of disappointment that went through Phil’s eyes.  “I’ll see you around, Clint,” he echoed.

With a final glance at Phil, Clint fled before Natasha could catch him.  Or he begged to stay.

~*~

Phil sighed and resisted the urge to rub his eyes.  His contacts were starting to itch after a long afternoon of staring at his computer.  His morning had been equally fruitless.  The holiday season was always hectic, but Phil had been hoping to clear his caseload a little before Christmas Eve.  Particularly since Skye was home for winter break from Harvard.  Naturally, that meant Phil was facing yet another late night instead of spending time with his daughter.  What else was Christmas Eve for?

“Hey Detective,” Antoine Triplett called out over the chaos of the bullpen.

Phil looked up to see Trip walking towards him.  Then he caught a flash of purple and dark blond hair behind Trip and blinked.  Sure enough, Trip was leading none other than Clint Barton up to Phil’s desk.  Clint looked _good_ , and Phil took a long moment to truly appreciate that.  Like the first time Phil had seen him, Clint wore combat boots and tight black jeans.  His battered leather jacket stretched across his amazing shoulders, unzipped to reveal the light great sweater underneath.   The sweater seemed a size too small, and did nothing to hide the muscles of Clint’s chest.  Reaching up, Clint scrubbed a hand through his messy hair.  Phil smiled at the glimpse of bright purple sticking out of Clint’s jacket pocket.

“I caught May scaring the crap out of this guy, so I thought I’d take pity on him and lead him up,” Trip said with a grin.

Phil smiled ruefully.  “Thanks, Trip,” he said.  “If you’re also planning on stealing more cookies, you’re going to have to fight Jasper for the crumbs.”

With a chuckle, Trip gave Phil a jaunty salute.  He headed over to charm Detective Sitwell out of a snickerdoodle, leaving Phil alone with Clint.

“Hi,” Clint greeted, shuffling up to Phil’s desk.  He set a large take-out cup in front of Phil.  “I brought you coffee.  Mostly to say thanks for being cool about everything.  And for not ratting me out.  Nat told me how you like your coffee.”  He swallowed and ducked his head a little.  “I’m sorry I kind of disappeared so quickly the other night.”

Phil’s stomach fluttered, which was entirely ridiculous in a man over forty.  “Thanks,” he said, picking up the coffee.  “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” Clint replied softly.

Taking a sip of coffee to cover his suddenly dry mouth, Phil hummed in surprised delight when the taste hit his tongue.  “Wow.  This is really good.”

Clint grinned, leaning casually against Phil’s desk.  “It’s from this little coffee shop near SI.  Half our geniuses swear by this place, so you know it’s good.”  Phil turned his chair, content to enjoy Clint’s visit as much as he could.  “So, do you celebrate Christmas and all that?” Clint asked.

Phil studied the other man’s face for a moment.  Clint seemed genuinely interested, but there was a subtle tension running through his shoulders.  “I’m not particularly religious, but Nick, Skye and I always have dinner together on Christmas Day,” Phil said.  “Usually we invite any of our friends that don’t have other plans.”

Clint smiled, but his eyes were bittersweet.  “That sounds nice,” he replied.

It was on the tip of Phil’s tongue to invite Clint and Natasha to join them for Christmas dinner when Bobbi Morse burst into the bullpen.  “Coulson,” she called out.  “Forensics just came back, and I was right.  Rumlow’s up to his lying neck in this.”

Clint jerked up from where he’d been leaning, and Phil frowned at his partner and her bad timing.  Bobbi, clearly noticing she’d interrupted something, raised both eyebrows and glanced between them.

“Hey, so, I’m going to go so you can go back to saving the world,” Clint said.  “And sorry again for running off on you like I did.”

“Thanks for the coffee,” Phil told him, not sure what else to say.

With a small wave, Clint headed off and Phil absolutely did not watch his ass as he left.

“Oh please tell me you hit that,” Bobbi said with a grin, dropping into her chair at her desk next to Phil’s.

“What?  _No_ ,” Phil hissed, his ears heating at the implication.

Bobbi arched an eyebrow in skepticism.  “Don’t lie to me, Coulson,” she said before holding up several fingers.  “One, he apologized for running off on you.  Two, you couldn’t keep your eyes off his ass.  Not that I blame you for that one.  And three, I could practically see the love hearts in his eyes when he looked at you.”

“Clint and I did not sleep together,” Phil said firmly, fighting a blush.  “We just shared a cup of coffee.  He’s friends with my neighbour.”

Bobbi stared at him.  “Well, if you haven’t yet, maybe you _should_ sleep with him.  Or at least ask him out,” she said, all traces of teasing gone from her voice.  “He’s totally into you.”

At Bobbi’s pointed look, Phil sighed.  “I’ll think about it,” he said.  “Can I see the forensic report now?”

“Sure,” Bobbi replied, handing it over, and they got back to work.

~*~

“So,” Natasha said, sliding into the chair on the opposite side of Clint’s large desk.  “How did it go?”

Clint looked up from where he’d been studying Fitz’s updates to the flying motorcycle design they’d been working on.  He made a mental note to have Mack check everything over for practicality before Natasha’s question registered.  Sighing, Clint rubbed a hand over his face.  “It was _awful_ ,” he muttered.  “I brought Phil the coffee, and he smiled, which I figured was good, right?  Only then his partner interrupted before I could ask him out to dinner.”  Clint resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands.  “It’s Christmas Eve, Tash.”

Natasha frowned thoughtfully.  “We can still do this,” she said.  “You can come over to my apartment and we can-”

“I’m not interrupting Phil’s time with his daughter,” Clint cut in.  “Besides, you and I have a Christmas Eve tradition, Nat.  I’m not breaking that just for a date.”

Natasha’s expression went soft and she smiled.  “Okay,” she agreed.  “So we’ll try again after Christmas.  Not even Phil can work _every_ day of the year.”

Clint let out a sigh.  “Thanks, Tash,” he said, grateful she wasn’t giving up on him.  Not that she would, but he was grateful all the same.

Natasha arched her eyebrow.  “Well, at least you’re not planning on climbing in any more of Phil’s windows,” she said.

“Ha ha.” Clint sent her a flat look.  He was still embarrassed about that, truthfully.  It was hardly the _worst_ thing Clint had ever done in front of someone he wanted to impress.  Even so, he still wasn’t entirely sure why Phil, being a cop, wanted to spend time with him.  Maybe even date him, if Clint could ever screw up the courage and ask.

Natasha rolled her eyes.  “Just wear those tight jeans again.  Phil will forget all about your criminal proclivities.” She paused for a beat, a wicked smirk curving her lips.  “Well, the ones related to burglary, anyway.”

Clint blushed, and shot her a glare.  The sound of heels clicking across the floor interrupted them, and Clint glanced up, feeling his eyebrows rise.  Through the glass walls of his office, Clint watched Maria Hill walk towards them.  What the Head of Security was doing on the R&D floor, Clint wasn’t sure.  Maria was already wearing her thick winter coat, clearly on her way home.  When she caught Clint watching, she fixed him with a pointed look.  Clint turned to Natasha.  “Do we have a meeting with Hill that I forgot about?” he asked.

Natasha sighed.

“Barton,” Maria said, pushing open his door.  Clint still wasn’t entirely sure why there were so many heavy glass doors in the R&D section of SI.  Really, fingerprints were some of the nicer things they got smeared with on a daily basis.  “Why are you still here?”

“Umm… because I’m working?” Clint replied.

Maria rolled her eyes and turned to Natasha, who shrugged.  “I’m going to drag him out of here in about fifteen minutes.”

“I would have thought you would have been doing that already,” Maria told her.

Natasha smiled.  “It’s Christmas, and he’s working on his Skycycle.  I thought I’d be nice.”  She arched her eyebrow at Clint.  “But he’s only getting fifteen minutes.”

Clint knew better than to argue with that.  Even if he did grin at Natasha’s use of the word ‘Skycycle’.  She’d been pretty adamantly against the name when Clint had first suggested it.

Chuckling, Maria nodded.  “As long as you both go home.”  After fixing them both with another pointed look, she nodded once and turned to leave.  “Merry Christmas!” she called out over her shoulder.

“Merry Christmas, Maria,” Clint called back.

“Come on,” Natasha said, nudging Clint’s ankle gently with her foot.  “Hurry up so we can go home.  I’m hungry.”

Clint smiled.  “Yeah, okay.”

~*~

“Okay, Dad, what’s up?” Skye asked, coming to sit beside Phil on the couch.  When Phil looked up from mindlessly staring at the TV, she handed him a mug of hot chocolate.  Curling her feet up underneath her, Skye studied him over the rim of her own mug.  “You’ve been quiet all night.  What gives?”

Phil sighed, letting the warm scent of chocolate soothe him.  “It’s nothing,” he replied.

“Nuh uh,” Skye replied.  “It’s totally something.”

Phil couldn’t stop the way his lips quirked as glanced up.  He never could get things by his daughter.  “It’s nothing important,” he amended.

“Dad.” Skye poked his thigh with her toe.  “It’s important to you.  Or you wouldn’t be imitating a zombie right now.”

Wincing, Phil felt a stab of guilt.  Christmas Day was technically over, but Skye didn’t have much longer before she was heading back to Harvard.  Phil had taken a few days off, but he’d be heading back to work by Monday.  Moping on his couch just because he missed Clint wouldn’t help him, anyway.  It was completely ridiculous.  Aside from a handful of conversations, he and Clint hadn’t even gone out on a date.  Yet, Phil still wondered what Clint was up to.

Skye poked him again.  “Are you going to tell me, or what?” she asked, eyebrows arched in question.

Phil sighed again.  “You’re going to take this completely the wrong way,” he said.

Frowning, Skye blinked once before her eyes went wide.  “Wait a minute, is this about the hot dude you were having coffee with?” she said, grinning.

Despite himself, Phil smiled a little at Skye’s enthusiasm.  She’d been trying to persuade Phil to start dating again now that she was in college.  Phil would, but his work schedule didn’t leave much time for sleep, let alone dating.  “It’s about Clint,” he agreed.

When Phil didn’t say anything else, Skye rolled her eyes.  “You should totally ask him out,” she said.  “In fact, why haven’t you done that already?”

“I don’t know,” Phil said, which was a lie.  He just wasn’t about to confess his insecurities to his daughter.

Skye snorted.  “You don’t even have his number, do you?”

“No.”  Phil shrugged.  “We kept getting interrupted.”

“Hopeless,” Skye muttered, hiding her grin behind her hot chocolate.

Phil huffed.  “Yes, thank you.”

“Okay, if I point out that you could go ask Natasha, our scarily hot neighbour, you’re just going to ignore me,” Skye said.  “So I have an alternate plan.”

“Do you now?” Phil said, taking another sip of his hot chocolate as he resigned himself to going along with whatever it was.

“Yep.”  Skye grinned.  “Wanna go skating?  We haven’t done that in years.”

Phil blinked.  “Yes.  I’d love to,” he said.

“Awesome.  We can go tomorrow,” Skye said.  Then she poked him in the thigh again.  “But right now, I want muppets.  Put the movie on already.”

“Your wish is my command,” Phil said dryly as he did as she asked, wondering how it was that Skye could always put a smile on his face.

~*~

“Come on, Clint!”

Scowling, Clint ignored Natasha’s amused shout.  Instead, he concentrated on not hitting all the other people skating around him.  It was three days after Christmas, so Clint had expected the ice rink at the Rockefeller Center to be far less crowded.  Dodging around another small child, Clint groaned, cursing Natasha for prodding him into this.  So what if he was moping a little?  He could do that in the privacy of his own apartment.  He didn’t need the added difficulty of remaining upright on ice skates to make him feel better.

Letting go of the side of the rink, Clint pushed off a little.  This was ridiculous.  Clint had spent half his childhood in a _circus_.  He could shoot arrows from the back of a horse and walk a tightrope with ease.  Ice skates should _not_ be difficult to master.  With a deep breath, Clint pushed off a little harder, his scowl easing as he moved faster.  Maybe this wasn’t actually as difficult as he thought.

“Watch out!”

Clint barely had time to glance up before a slim woman crashed into him with enough speed to send them both tumbling to the ice.  Clint cursed as he hit ass first, pain radiating up his spine.  His only saving grace was that the nearby skaters managed to skate around them.  Groaning, Clint lay on the ice for a moment.  The cold seeped in through his clothes as he tried to persuade his head to stop throbbing.  That was going to leave a bump.

The woman on his chest untangled herself enough to look at Clint with wide eyes.  Blinking, Clint could only stare as he recognized her face.  “Oh, I am so sorry!” she said.  “Are you okay?  Does anything hurt?”

“Mostly my pride,” Clint quipped.  He grimaced, trying to hide the embarrassment of being knocked on his ass by his crush’s daughter.

Skye scrambled easily to her feet and reached down a hand to help Clint up.  She bit her lip when Clint wobbled on his skates and Clint sighed.  After a lifetime of friendship with Natasha, he should be used to beautiful women laughing at him.

“I really am sorry,” Skye said softly, pulling them over to the edge of the rink and out of the way of everyone else.  Her cheeks were pink, and Clint was guessing that wasn’t entirely from the cold.

Clint shrugged and smiled.  “I’m okay,” he assured her.  Then he reached up to poke at her bright purple beanie.  “Besides, I can’t stay mad at anyone who has such awesome taste in hats.”

Skye laughed, her brown eyes lighting up with amusement.  “Thanks.”

Clint was about to say something else, but then he caught sight of Phil Coulson skating somewhat shakily over to them.  Part of Clint was relieved to see he wasn’t the only person having trouble, but most of his brain was entranced by Phil in jeans.  The first two times he’d met Phil, he’d been wearing the tailored slacks and a shirt.  They’d suited Phil, especially when Phil rolled up the sleeves to reveal his strong forearms.  Phil in jeans, however, was something else entirely.  Especially since the jeans were just worn enough to be comfortable.  Underneath his black coat, Phil wore a thick grey sweater, and a black beanie was pulled down over his forehead.  He’d wrapped a soft-looking grey scarf around his neck, which somehow brought out the blue of his eyes.

“Skye, are you okay?”  Phil skated to a halt beside them, his gloved hand reaching out to grab onto the boards for stability.  Then he glanced up and Clint could spot the exact moment Phil worked out who he was.  “Clint?”

“Hey, Phil,” Clint greeted, watching in amazement as Phil’s cheeks flushed a darker pink.

“I’m fine, Dad,” Skye said, her eyes dancing.  “I accidentally ran into Clint.  But you should probably take him for a hot chocolate to make sure he’s okay.  He had a pretty hard landing.”

Clint scrunched his nose at her as Phil blushed harder.  “Yes, I should,” Phil agreed.

“What?” Clint said, turning wide eyes on Phil.  “You should?”

“Unless you don’t want to?” Phil replied hesitantly.

“Oh, no.  Wait.  Yes.  I want to.  I definitely want to, Phil,” Clint said in a rush.

“Oh, look, there’s Natasha,” Skye said loudly.  “I’m going to go skate with her.”

“Subtle, kid!” Clint called after her, fighting his own blush as Skye skated off laughing.

Phil cleared his throat.  “So, shall we go and get that hot chocolate?” he asked.

Clint grinned.  “Yeah, we totally should,” he said.

Of course, Clint’s life was never that easy.  Both he and Phil were just pulling off their skates when Phil’s phone went off.  For a moment, Phil hesitated, looking hilariously torn.  It helped soothe Clint irritation at yet another interruption of their almost-date.   He waved Phil to go ahead and ducked his head, concentrating on lacing up his boots and trying not to eavesdrop.

“Coulson,” Phil answered, his tone professional but still holding an undercurrent of frustration.  He listened for a while before sighing heavily.  “Yeah, Bobbi, I got that.  I’ll be there in about twenty minutes.”

Hanging up, Phil turned his apologetic gaze on Clint.  “It’s cool, Phil,” Clint said quietly before Phil could say anything.  “You have a job to do.  And don’t worry about Skye.  I’ll tell her where you went and make sure she gets home okay.”

“It’s not cool,” Phil said with a grimace.  “I want to get a hot chocolate with you.  I want to not have to run away right now.”  He shrugged helplessly.  “I really like you, Clint.  I want to see if you can possibly like me too.”

Clint stared at Phil in silence.  No matter how they’d hit it off the first time they’d met, Clint had never really considered that Phil would feel the same way he did.  Phil was smart and wore stylish suits and brought criminals to justice.  He was so totally out of Clint’s league.  Natasha would say that was his stupidity showing, but Clint could be that way sometimes.  Part of him would always remember the taunts of ‘dumb carnie’ despite how much he’d achieved since.  Or how many times Natasha told him he wasn’t.

Clint must have been silent for too long, because Phil glanced away.  “Or not,” he started to say.

“No, Phil, wait,” Clint said, reaching out to grab Phil’s arm.  “I’d really, really like that too.  So, um… would you mind?”  He gestured to Phil’s phone, smiling when Phil passed it over.  Clint tugged off his glove to swipe at the screen and typed in his phone number before handing it back.  “There.  Now we can potentially call each other to work out when you can take me out for that hot chocolate.”

Phil smiled back, his cheeks pink again.  “It’s a date,” he agreed.

Clint was still sitting there goofily when Skye and Natasha found him again.  He didn’t even mind their teasing, because he had a date with the really awesome guy of his dreams.

~*~

Phil frowned.  He was in a thoroughly bad mood.  Even Bobbi was avoiding him at this point.  He felt guilty, but Phil couldn’t seem to stop.  Bobbi’s call had turned into a solid lead, and they’d spent the last forty-eight hours dealing with the resulting chaos.  Phil had barely slept, let alone found time to actually call Clint like he wanted to.  At this rate, he’d be lucky if Clint even picked up the phone, let alone agreed to go out on a date with him.

“Okay, I’ve had enough of this,” Jasper Sitwell announced.  He dragged a chair over to Phil’s desk and sagged into it.  “Your expression is scaring the uniforms.  One minute you look like you’re an inch away from strangling someone with your tie.  The next, like someone ate the last donut in front of you.  What gives?”

Glancing up, Phil felt his grumpy reply die on his tongue.  Jasper smirked knowingly, holding out the large take-out coffee.  Then he set what looked like enchiladas from the tiny hole-in-the-wall he’d found on Phil's desk.  If anyone was could find really delicious enchiladas in Manhattan, it would be Jasper.  The man had a sixth-sense for good food.  “Thanks, Jasper,” he said softly.

Jasper shrugged and grinned.  “Bobbi was trying to make Trip ask May to sort you out, so I thought I’d take one for the team,” he replied.

Phil winced.  “Sorry.  I don’t mean to be bad tempered.”

“It’s kind of nice actually,” Jasper replied.

Blinking, Phil stared at his fellow detective.  “It is?” he asked.

Jasper nodded.  “You’re always so calm, even when we get the shit cases that makes everyone start snapping at each other.  It’s nice to know that things actually do get to you,” he said.  “So, are you doing to tell me what’s got your boxers in a twist, or am I going to have to guess?”

Letting out a sigh, Phil slumped down in his chair and took a sip of the coffee.  “I’m just starting to resent all the time this case is taking up.  I want to spend more time with Skye…”  Trailing off Phil swallowed and told himself to admit the real truth of the matter.  “There’s also this guy…”

“Hey, is this the guy with the great ass who brought you coffee last week?” Jasper interrupted, his eyes bright behind his glasses.

“Yeah.”  Phil smiled, unable to help himself.  “I really want to ask him out on a date, only I’m suddenly buried under work and I can’t.”

Jasper blinked, his eyes wide.  “Holy shit,” he muttered.  “Coulson wants to date someone.  Okay, now I don’t even blame you for being cranky in the slightest.”

“Thanks,” Phil said dryly.

“Oh, come on,” Jasper said.  “This is big news!”

“You’re not funny, Jasper,” Phil grumbled, but as always, Jasper’s wide grin was infectious.

“I’m hilarious,” Jasper countered.  “Now eat your lunch and let me think for a minute.”

Rolling his eyes, Phil gave in and ate his enchiladas, humming in happiness.  Sometimes, Phil considered dating Jasper for the food alone.  They’d probably irritate each other into homicide in about two weeks, but the food made it almost worth it.

About ten minutes later, a familiar redhead walked into the bullpen.  Smiling, Phil swallowed the last of his lunch and waved at Natasha.  Jasper, who was now balancing his chair on two legs, crashed back to the floor when he caught sight of her.  He turned wide eyes on Phil.  “Okay, so how to do you know so many hot people?” he hissed.

Phil grinned and shrugged before turning his attention back to Natasha.  “Hello, Natasha,” he greeted.  “Can I help you with something.”

“Yes, actually, you can,” Natasha replied.  She slid an amused and curious glance towards Jasper and then turned back to Phil with an arched eyebrow.  Pulling a thick envelope of fancy stationary out of her purse, she handed it to Phil.  “You can do me a favour and take New Year’s Eve off, put on your best suit and meet Clint there.  His moping is getting ridiculous, and because he won’t ask, I am.”

“Umm…” Phil said, torn between confusion and blushing bright red.  Jasper’s sudden cackling laughter wasn’t helping either.

“It’s the annual SI New Year’s Eve party,” Natasha explained, clearly taking pity on him.

“Oh, thank you.”  Phil swallowed and raised a polite smile to Natasha.

She rolled her eyes.  “You’re as bad as he is, aren’t you?” she said.  “Just be at the party, Phil.  I’m not above dragging you out of your apartment if you aren’t.”

Jasper laughed so hard, he almost doubled over in his chair.  Sighing, Phil nodded to Natasha.  “I will,” he said.

“Good.”  Natasha smiled and waved, before sauntering off again.

Closing his eyes, Phil barely resisted dropping his head to his desk.  Jasper was going to run a mile with this.  “Oh, come on.  It’s not that bad,” Jasper said when the giggles had died away.

Phil cracked open an eye.  “So you’re not going to tease me about this forever?”

Jasper smirked.  “Bake me cookies and I can be persuaded to keep my mouth shut,” he replied.  “Besides, you just scored a date with the man of your dreams.  Time to pull out that tux or whatever you keep in the back of your closet and sweep him off his feet.”

“Call me old-fashioned, but I usually prefer my dates actually know they’re dating me,” Phil said dryly, trying to squash down his uncertainties.

Jasper rolled his eyes.  “Since when have you let a minor problem like that stop you?”  He grinned back as Phil stared at him.  “You’ll regret it if you don’t put on your best suit and seduce that man.”

What was his life?  Phil sighed again.  “Yeah,” he agreed.  “Okay.”

~*~

Clint grimaced and resisted the urge to pull at his collar, but only because Natasha would hurt him if he tried.  Through a combination of glaring and ominous silence, Natasha had menaced him into an actual tie and most of a suit.  The grey suit pants and waistcoat were pretty nice, all things considered.  His tie was the same shade of black his shirt, which was fashionable, and Clint had won the battle with the jacket.  Or his lack of one.  He’d rolled his sleeves up to his elbows too, but that didn’t really help Clint feel less like he was playing dress up.  “Relax, Clint,” Natasha muttered from beside him.  “And smile.”  She poked him ruthlessly in the side.  “You never know who you might meet at one of these things.”

The large ballroom at Stark Tower had been elegantly decorated for the annual New Year’s Eve Ball.  It had traces Pepper’s subtle hand all over it, and not just because there was a stunning lack of red and gold.  The massive chandeliers were brightly lit, and tables surrounded an impressively large dance floor.  This year, Stark had sprung for an actual jazz big band.  The whole room was enough to make Clint nervous about using the wrong fork.  Or spilling a drink on someone.

Clint huffed.  “Yeah, right.  Like Stark’s fancy friends are going to want to talk to an unknown nerd from R&D.”

Natasha poked him again.  Hard.  Clint suspected the only reason she didn’t smack him on the head was because she didn’t want to draw more attention.  Not that Clint couldn’t feel all the stares already.

“Any of Stark’s friends would be lucky to talk to you,” she growled, fixing Clint with a sharp stare.  “Even if you were just a guy from R&D.  But we both know you’re so much more than that, Clint.”

“Yeah, sorry.  Thanks.”  He gently nudged Natasha’s side.  “So why’d you get all dressed up, too?”

Natasha’s sleeveless cream dress was beautiful, but showed more cleavage than she usually preferred.  Her hair was swept back from her face, and diamonds glittered at her ears.  She kind of reminded Clint of a fifties screen icon, all old school glamour.  It wasn’t that Natasha wasn’t beautiful on a daily basis or anything, either.  She _was_.  She just didn’t usually draw so much attention to it.  “Word has it that Stark invited the artist Rogers again, and he’s fun to flirt with.  He’s not as innocent as everyone insists, you know.  Besides, Maria said half of New York’s SWAT team was invited after that incident with Killian.  Stark’s apparently trying to say thank you, and you know how I love a man in uniform.”

Clint’s stomach clenched.  “Are SWAT the only cops who are going to be here?” he asked, torn between anticipation at maybe seeing Phil and suspicion Natasha had done something.

“They better not be,” Natasha replied.  “I did invite Phil personally.”

Clint turned to her and gaped.  “Tash!” he hissed.  “Why would you do that?”

Natasha fixed him with a level look.  “Because somebody needed to do something.”  She softened her expression.  “Clint, I know you.  You and Phil need to go out on a date so you can see if something’s there, before you build Phil up to be a saint in your mind.”

Clint winced.  It might have been too late for that.  Clint was pretty sure Phil was perfect.  “I already know there’s something there,” he finally admitted.  “I may have underestimated how long we actually sat there talking the first time we met.”

Natasha narrowed her eyes.  “Underestimated by how much?” she growled.

“Two hours.”  Clint held up his hands and took a step back.  “Phil’s just so easy to talk to, Tash,” he said.  “I mean…”  Clint stepped forward again and lowered his voice.  “I even told him about the circus.  Not the bad bits, but…”  He shrugged.

Shaking her head, Natasha smiled at him in fond exasperation.  “Well, in that case, go get your man,” she said, nodding her head over Clint’s shoulder.

Turning, Clint blinked a little when he spotted Phil through the crowd.  Phil looked amazing.  He was wearing a honest-to-God three piece suit and those thick, black-framed glasses.  The combination kind of made him look like a slightly dorkier version of James Bond.  Even as he told himself not to stare, Clint couldn’t tear his eyes away.  The dark jacket emphasized Phil’s broad shoulders, and the fitted waistcoat showed off his trim stomach.  Clint wasn’t sure if he wanted to spend the rest of the night watching Phil -- or to drag Phil somewhere a lot more private.  He had urges of slowly stripping Phil out of that suit, one inch at a time.

Reaching up, Natasha gave him a firm shove between his shoulders.  “Clint, stop staring and make a move,” she grumbled near his ear.  “Reyes has been eyeing him for the last five minutes, and if you don’t hurry up, she’s going to.”

“Reyes?” Clint asked, bewildered.

Natasha huffed.  “Camilla Reyes?  Cultural attaché from the Peruvian embassy?  We met her last month at Stark’s fundraiser.”

Clint frowned, vaguely remembering a brunette in a tight black dress admiring his biceps.  “How does she know Phil?” he asked, bewildered.

Muttering something under her breath, Natasha gave Clint another shove.  “Go, Clint.”

“Okay.”  Swallowing down his nerves, Clint headed towards Phil.  He had to dodge around a man waving a drink and a waiter, but he managed not to crash into anyone.  Clint raised a hand and sort of waved when Phil caught sight of him.  “Hi,” he greeted.

Phil’s eyes gleamed with amusement.  “Hi,” he replied.

Clint grasped for something to say, cursing his own awkwardness.  “So, we never got that hot chocolate,” he said.  “Can I maybe buy you a drink instead?”

“Okay,” Phil said, smiling a little.  “I’d like that.”

“Awesome.” Clint pasted a bright smile on his face and gestured to the left.  “I think the bar’s this way.”

Clint turned, but because the universe hated him, he heard his name being called out by an unmistakable voice.  “Barton!”

“Aww, Stark, no,” Clint muttered.

Undeterred, Tony Stark cut through the crowd like a slightly manic ship through a drunken sea.  Clint briefly wondered if ducking behind a table would help him avoid Stark, but he didn’t think he was that lucky.  Phil stepped up beside him, and the warm hand on the small of Clint’s back did wonders for soothing his nerves.  “We could disappear out the side door?” Phil whispered in Clint’s ear.

Clint shivered as he glared at Stark.  “Nah.  He’ll just follow us,” he replied.

A few feet away, Stark opened his mouth, a pair of ridiculously tinted glasses sliding down his nose.  Clint held up a finger, surprised when Stark actually paused.  “Tony…” Clint started, scanning the crowd a little desperately for either Pepper or Rhodey.

“Yeah, no, it’s important, okay?” Stark said, grabbing Clint’s arm and dragging him into the crowd.  “Hammer is being stupid again and I need help convincing him he’s being a complete moron.”

Clint flailed and tried to dig his heels into the floor, but he wasn’t wearing his usual boots, so it didn’t work.  “No, wait!  Tony!  I’m kind of in the middle of something else!”

Stark snorted.  “What could be more important than proving Hammer wrong?”

Opening his mouth, Clint sort of stalled and Stark dragged him another few steps.  He wasn’t sure how to tell Stark he was maybe on a sort-of date, without the billionaire getting inappropriately interested.  “Oh, hey, look,” Clint said.  “It’s Rhodey!”

Judging by the glares, Clint might have shouted the last bit.  Rhodey, drink in hand, raised both eyebrows at him and walked over.  Clint smiled in relief.  “Hey, Rhodey,” he greeted.

“Clint,” Rhodey said levelly.  “Tony, what’s going on?”

“What?” Stark said, affronted.  “I’m not allowed to have cheerful conversations with my employees anymore?  Because I’m pretty sure that’s not on Pepper’s list…”

“Tony, friendly conversations don’t involve dragging Clint across a ballroom,” Rhodey cut in.

Stark frowned.  “Hammer is being a raging dick.  I need Clint to help me convince him that a self-driving car is not something anyone needs,” he argued.  “Particularly a car built by Hammer.  Although, I’m pretty sure I could do it and it would be awesome.”

Rhodey sighed.  If he’d been a lesser man, he probably would have rolled his eyes at the ceiling.  Somehow, when it came to Stark, Rhodey had the patience of a saint.  “Tony, no one is going to build _any_ kind of cars, okay?”

Carefully, Clint wiggled his way out of Stark’s grasp.  It was actually pretty easy now that Stark had turned to Rhodey and was waving his hands.  Not sticking around to hear whatever Stark came up with, Clint flashed Rhodey a grin and slipped back into the crowd.  He had better things to do.

Naturally, since the universe still hated him, when Clint crossed back to where he’d left Phil, Reyes was there.  Tonight she was dressed in red, and had pressed close to Phil’s side.  A shot of pure jealousy curled through Clint’s stomach.  The feeling wasn’t lessened at all by the handsome dark-skinned man standing on Phil’s other side.  Taking a deep breath and reminding himself he was an _adult_ , Clint pasted a smile on his face.  “Hey,” he said.  “So sorry about that.  Stark kind of gets that way sometimes.”

Phil smiled back, his eyes crinkling.  “It’s okay,” he said softly, before clearing his throat.  “Clint, have you met Attaché Reyes from the Peruvian Embassy?  And this is Sam Wilson.  He works at the VA.”

When Clint glanced at Reyes, her smile was a shade predatory.  “Yes, we’ve met,” she said.

Helplessly, Clint tried to remember all the polite ways to duck out of a conversation that Natasha had taught him.  Only, his mind was coming up blank.  “Umm…”

His dark eyes dancing, Sam took pity on him.  “Attaché Reyes, may I have the honour of his dance?” he asked, gallantly holding out his arm.  With a smirk, Reyes accepted and Clint absolutely did not let out a breath of relief.  As he escorted Reyes in the direction of the dancefloor, Sam winked broadly at Clint.  “Phil, I’ll talk to you later, man.”

“So, ah…” Clint began.

A loud crash from nearby had both him and Phil glancing to the left.  Through the commotion, Clint spotted both Bruce Banner and Jane Foster.  He just _knew_ bad things were about to happen.  Grabbing Phil’s hand, Clint immediately pulling him in the direction of a side door.  It was self-preservation at this point.  Once they were outside the ballroom, Clint stalled, not sure where to go next.  Also, kidnapping his sort-of date probably wasn’t a good idea.

Sheepishly, he turned towards Phil.  “Um, sorry,” he said.  “I just wanted a little space, you know?”

Phil smiled.  When Clint tried to drop his hand, Phil tangled their fingers together.  “It’s okay,” he replied.  “I want to spend time with you too, Clint.”

“Oh, okay.  Good.”  Clint glanced around.  Like most of Stark Tower, the corridor they were in was expensively decorated.  There were actual plants and chairs with cushions, but it wasn’t the most romantic of locations.  “If it’s not too cold, I can take us to the roof?” he offered.  “I’m pretty sure I can get a blanket somewhere too.”

“I can do you one better,” Phil replied with a mischievous grin.  For a moment, Clint was lost in the way his blue eyes danced.  “I remember where the cloakroom is.”

“Yeah, okay,” Clint breathed.  “Let’s do that.”

~*~

About twenty minutes and two keypad locks later, Clint led Phil out onto the roof of Stark Tower.  The air was cold and a little biting, even through Phil’s thick coat and gloves, but Phil didn’t mind.  After the last week and the anxiety leading up to the party, Phil was happy to just enjoy Clint’s steady presence beside him.  Beyond the edge of the roof, New York glittered, and the moon hung low in the sky.  Phil let out a breath and pressed in a little closer to Clint’s side as they leaned against the railing.

“So, in the interest of full disclosure,” Clint said.  “We technically don’t have permission to be up here.”

Phil arched an eyebrow at Clint’s unrepentant grin.  “The fact you had to hack through two locks did give me that clue,” he replied dryly.

Clint rolled his eyes.  “It’s not exactly like Stark would care, but I figured as a cop, you might object,” he teased.

Shaking his head, Phil chuckled.  “I think I can let it slide,” he said.

“Oh, come on!” Clint protested dramatically.  His whole face was lit up with mischief, and the expression stole Phil’s breath.  “There are so many puns you could have made there!  I totally set you up and everything.”

Phil cleared his throat.  “Well,” he said, ignoring the way his heart was suddenly pounding.  “Since I’m not very good at witty puns, will you settle for being seduced by uncommon Captain America trivia?”

Clint turned to stare at him with wide eyes and a slowly dawning and delighted grin.  “You like Cap?”  He snorted, immediately cutting himself off.  “Of course you like Cap.  You’re practically a hero too.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Phil denied.

With a reproachful look, Clint bumped Phil’s shoulder with his.  “You are,” he said firmly.  “And as much as I love Cap, which I do, if you really want to seduce me, you should talk Peggy Carter.  Peggy was _amazing_.  I mean, she was a spy who fought Nazi’s.   _And_ she did it all while people were being sexist douchebags to her, which Cap never had to deal with…”

For a moment, all Phil could do was stare in awe.  He was so insanely lucky that Natasha had moved into the apartment next to his.  If not, Phil might never had met Clint, and that seemed heartbreaking.  Phil felt a rush of love sweep up over him from his toes to the top of his head.  He hadn’t even taken Clint out on a proper date yet and he was already head over heels.  Leaning in, Phil couldn’t stop himself cutting Clint off in mid-rant with a kiss.  For an eternal second, Clint’s lips were still under his.  Then Clint’s hands were reaching up to grab the lapels of Phil’s coat and dragging him in.  The kiss turned hot and fierce, and Phil slid in closer, wrapping his arm tightly around Clint’s waist.

Finally, Phil drew back enough to catch his breath and smiled at Clint’s dazed expression.  “Sorry,” he said.  “I was going to wait to do that at midnight, but…”

Clint blinked, a smirk growing across his face.  “But I was just too damn irresistible?” he quipped.

“Yes,” Phil replied simply.

Clint looked stunned at that, his cheeks colouring slightly.  “Yeah, well,” he said.  “You’re pretty damn irresistible yourself, Phil.”

“Have dinner with me?” Phil said in a rush.  Inwardly, Phil cursed himself, because what happened to being smooth?

Clint grinned brightly.  “I can do dinner,” he agreed.  “Or how about breakfast?  I know this cool diner that’s open tomorrow.”

Phil couldn’t help but smile in reply.  “Breakfast is good, too,” he agreed.

“Awesome.”  Clint leaned in again.  “I also have some ideas about how we can pass the time until then.”

“Oh, really?” Phil asked, shifting so Clint’s solid weight could settle against him.

Clint hummed in agreement.  “How else would you want to ring in the New Year?” he muttered against Phil’s lips.

In reply, Phil just tightened his arms and kissed Clint back.

****  
End.


End file.
